Posting days: Sunday and Wednesday and, sometimes, maybe, extra ‘news flashes’

Wednesday May 30th 2018

Since May 5th, that horrible day in the lane over three weeks ago when Isis was badly spooked by the sun flicking in and out, and I thought that something had cut her eye, she still has issues about coming out of the kitchen into the back garden.

She no longer refuses to move unless I put her on the lead. That’s something. But she will not put a paw over the threshold until I give her the under-the-chin tap which indicates that all is well and she should follow me.

There are, though, two exceptions. One is at night when it’s dark. That’s fine. No fears. Perfectly understandable: the sun isn’t likely to pop in and out at night.

That makes sense, then.

The other exception is when she realises that our destination is the lane. Yes, believe it or not, the  lane. Now, of course, one would expect that after the nasty weather events of May 5th, the last place Isis would want to be, at least for a while, would be the lane.

Not so. Even the day following the trauma, she is keen to return to her lane. True, for the first week the resurgence of nightmares persists, she is hesitant when I open the gate to the lane, and she plays in the shade at the edges of the track. She’s not got over the episode, but she definitely wants to be there.

Since the fateful day, every morning and afternoon at pee time, I step briskly out of the back door, willing her to follow me. And every morning and afternoon  she stays in the kitchen until I return and under-chin- tap her.

By contrast, every time I gather up my phone, a slice of foam in a plastic bag to sit on and a handful of poo bags, she twirls by the back door, wagging ecstatically, well before I drape her lead round my neck and open the door. How she knows we’re going into the lane, I can’t fathom. I suppose she must smell the items I’m collecting, or follow a pattern of movements I make. Strange.

Even more strange to me is the fact that she can’t wait to rush out into the back garden when she’s on her way to the scary lane but insists that she’s too afraid to go into the same back garden for a pee.

Is there some perfect dog sense at play here, some esoteric canine knowledge that a mere human is just too dim to access?

Isis came from the Aeza cat and dog rescue and adoption centre in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@aeza.org or  www.dogwatchuk.co.uk